


esto perpetuum

by westminster



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, alex is so in love yet so ignorant, both are stupidly oblivious to absolutely everything, the majority of this is just insults, washington's campaign team AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westminster/pseuds/westminster
Summary: "I do actually have emotions Alex, contrary to what you might think.""Yes, and those emotions generally are: disgust, annoyance and loathing, to name a few.""Do you really think that little of me?""Why, Thomas - do you think more of me?"-or,When Alex browses Jefferson's bookshelves, he finds photo albums from his university days.Alex then realises that he once slept with him, many years ago.-or,I can't write summaries and I don't know Latin.





	esto perpetuum

He wasn't sure how he got here - in Jefferson's study, locking eyes with the man in question, but he was certain it was that conniving bastard Washington's fault. Although Alex practically worships the guy, he knows that this scheme has his finger prints all over it. His constant attempts to make his two finest campaign staff treat each other with just a tiny bit of civility have failed every single time. 

 

Alex's favourite failure happened a few months ago, when the man in question had resorted to 'accidently' locking the pair in his office for a few hours and feigning ignorance. Alex had thought that when Washington eventually freed them and was subsequently confronted with the image of them frantically shouting at each other so closely that Alex could feel Jefferson's spit on his cheeks, he'd have labelled it a lost cause. Of course not, failure just wasn't a part of Washington's vocabulary (except when he calls Jefferson in his office to evaluate his performance, Alex likes to think.) 

 

They had been planning this campaign for years. Washington had gathered the brightest young minds in the state to extensively work to make sure that his re-election as senator was secured. The team consisted of; Alexander, naturally the greatest member of the crew; Thomas Jefferson, the biggest dick that he has ever met, possibly Satan if Satan had cheap insults and an even poorer sense of humour; Jefferson's irrelevant friend, Madison; John Laurens - sweet, cares a little too much about Alex's safety for his liking; Lafayette, who is obnoxiously French, and is loved by the team for his often abuse of the phrase 'mon cherie'; Hercules Mulligan, who Alex only knew as 'Lafayette's sidekick' for three months, until they got horrendously drunk one night and Alex realised that he is fucking ah-may-zing and Aaron Burr, who Alex hates because of the stupidly large amount of hilarious insults he's wasted on him. It was a small team compared to the plentiful office of Washington's opponent, but the senator liked it that way. Sure, it meant that they all worked their asses every minute of the day to ensure a victory next fall, but the extensive, plush offices they all received was certainly worth it.

 

Now, the specific incident that left Alex in the incapable hands of his rival, started with last Monday's meeting to address the follow week's tasks. Washington had stood at the foot of the table and declared a friendly debate competition between the group because it would apparently 'help him in the televised debates against his opposition next month.' Alex silently called bullshit on that, Washington was an exemplary speaker who had nothing to learn from his subordinates, this was his way of getting Jefferson and Hamilton to argue in an amicable way. If Washington was delusional enough to think that either of the pair was going to make anything about this competition 'amicable', then they were just going to have to prove that that was a complete fabrication. 

*

Alex heard Jefferson's shouts from outside the building. Although they were muffled by the centuries-old walls, there was no mistaking that distinctive Virginian accent. With every step closer to their offices that Alex took, Jefferson's words became clearer - he was eventually able to translate a lot of curse words and a resounding, "fucking Hamilton!" It was only when Alex stepped into the communal space in between their individual offices that he received the full extent of Jefferson's fury. It was just him and Madison in the room until Alex interrupted, everyone else had had the common sense to leave when Jefferson started. It's Madison that fascinates Alex though, perched on a cabinet, posed in a mock-thinking position, thumb and index finger cupping his chin in a pantomime of deep contemplation. After Alex's eyes leave Madison, they travel not to Jefferson, but to where Jefferson's eyes are also averted - the whiteboard that takes up the whole of the wall adjacent to the door. Hamilton can only just make out the nearly illegible scrawl that Washington calls his handwriting, but it's there:

 

DEBATE TEAMS

team one - Lafayette, Hamilton, Mulligan and Jefferson

team two - Laurens, Madison, Burr and Adams

18th April 4.30pm \- (motion will be send out via email tomorrow at around 6pm)

(p.s. yes, John Adams is joining us, BE NICE!)

 

Alex couldn't help but laugh at Washington's harsh underlining of 'be nice', it was no secret that the whole office actively despised Adams, who unfortunately happened to be Washington's closest political ally. Adams was the dollar store version of Washington, right down to his vocabulary of roughly 30 words and a shared intelligence with a corn chip. 

When he had finished analysing the board, Alex finally turned his attention to the now scathing Jefferson, who had being staring daggers at him the entire time. After years of their constant verbal battles, Alex could predict every single word of the conversation that was about to happen. He responded to Jefferson's anger with a big, toothy grin, squealing, "Heyy, teammate! Can't wait to prepare this debate with you!"

 

This was, naturally, met with a list of expletives and some witty remarks in response, until Madison reminded Jefferson about a specific deadline, reluctantly trailing after the other man. This left Alex alone, debating whether to bribe Burr into swapping teams. Whilst being with Laurens sounded rather cushy, he realised that he'd much rather abuse Jefferson than listen to John Adams' gruelling speeches about his own accomplishments. Yes, this might just work out.

*

 

_'washington's children'_ group chat: active **now**

 

**laf:** yo arent the debate teams gonna meet up ?? like dont we have to plan shit I wasn't really listening to gwash

**j-laur:** jesus christ, your team are so unorganized. team 2 have already planned our meeting,, at adams' tomorrow evening

**laf:** shouldn't have told us that, we goin' go crash it, $100 to anyone who can get adams to drunk dial washington

**jamesm:** You know very well that Washington would see right through that, he would have all our heads on sticks.

**aham:** oh shit, team one - where we meeting my lovely pals (+ Jefferson) ?

**jeffs:** hilarious, alexander. how about yours then if you are so eager? 

 

Alex actually drops his phone in response to that last text. It falls on an empty carton which once, possibly weeks ago at this point, contained noodles from the chinese takeaway on his street. That's the main reason why he's completely terrified by even the slight chance that Jefferson might pay him a visit. Jefferson, with his stupid, fancy clothes and his actual mansion of a house, and his stupid, stupid butler. If Alex invited him to his apartment he would never here the end of it. He could practically hear Jefferson's relentless teasing already, 'You practically have to swim through the takeaway packaging to get to your kitchen Hamilton, ever heard of a broom?" "Ah yes, very hobo chic, Alexander." "I've seen higher quality furniture in a strip club." 

 

Jefferson was never coming to his house. Alex would have parted seas to stop this. 

 

**aham:** sorry tommy boy, no can do. i have friends staying over and i would never let them anywhere near you

**jeffs:** alexander hamilton ?? FRIENDS ?? hahahahA perhaps the funniest joke ive ever heard

**aham:** just because you buy them, thomas 

**jeffs:** well if you wanted to be bought, Alex, you should have just asked. Because Alexander is an inept child, I guess I shall house you all. my house, tomorrow. 6pm. i'm sure you don't need my address, the jefferson mansion is famous in itself

**herc:** sounds good, me n laf will see you there. try not to murder alex if we're a little late

**aham:** him murder me? i think not

**jeffs:** we both know i could crush your puny ass with one hand, hamilton

**aham:** been spending a lot of time thinking about my ass then?

**jeffs:** don't flatter yourself

 

*

 

Alex had spent nearly two week's wage on the suit he was currently wearing. He was totally ashamed by this fact. Why did he care so much about what Jefferson thought about him? He finally brought his eyes away from the mirror in the hallway, brushing off some non-existent dust from his lapel, and left his apartment. 

 

Public transport was the obvious method of choice for Alex, too busy to pass a driving test, too proud to ask one of his friends for a lift. He frantically rushed for the bus, which deposited him a few blocks from Jefferson's house. He had accepted that the walk to Jefferson's might relax him - or, more likely, give him additional time to think up a list of witty insults to fire at Jefferson when they met.

 

It was Jefferson, in the end, who fired the first blow. 

 

"Come in, Hamilton. There's wine in the foyer, you must be incredibly dehydrated after your long walk here. Whatever Washington pays you for your inadequate work would hardly cover a train fare." 

 

Whatever retort that Alex had stored in the forefront of his mind completely disintegrated when he realised Jefferson had tied his long curls up, wearing tight-fitting jeans and a violently red jumper to form a suave casual look. But Jefferson did look rather appealing without his polished three piece suit on, and come to mention it, Alex noticed that he had quite a nice neck now that it wasn't covered by a stuffy collar and there was als- no. Just because Alex could comfortably recognise that Jefferson was a conventionally attractive guy, did not mean Alex was actually attracted to him. Alex tried to avoid swearing under his breath at his own stupidity and misjudgement of the dress code. 

 

Jefferson used his colleague's silence as an initiation to mock him once more, his gaze lingering slightly on Alex's navy and grey striped tie, muttering, "good lord, what did sell to get that suit? Surely even that hobbit hole you call an apartment isn't worth that much."

 

"You can only dream about looking as good as this."

 

"You think I dream about you? Don't get your hopes up."

 

As Jefferson led Alex through corridor after corridor, they practically exhausted all the scathing comebacks they had prepared, luckily reaching his study before they resorted to the dreaded 'your mom' jokes. Alex had to physically restrain himself from complimenting the room upon first glance, completely taken aback by the sheer magnitude of literature Jefferson possessed. This was the stuff he fantasized about - pathetic, he knows - volumes upon volumes of first editions, classics, books that he knows cost more money than he would ever see in his life. He could not help but thumb the spine of a nearby copy of Thomas Paine's 'Common Sense.' 

 

"Please keep your grubby hands off my valuable possessions, Alexander."

 

"Wow! Thomas Jefferson using the world please? Hold on, let me record this."

 

Jefferson replied with a face of faux disgust, settling into a nearby chair. Alex took this as an invitation to occupy the other chair set out directly adjacent to Jefferson's, addressing the silence between them by taking out his phone. Alex had only glanced at it when he was up again, pacing manically across the room.

 

"I. Cannot. Believe. Him."

 

Jefferson stayed relatively quiet, leaning back in his chair with a grin, before finally speaking: "Care to explain yourself? Or do you make a habit of having a mental breakdown in front of all your hosts."

 

Alex told him to check his own phone, and after he did so, Jefferson too was reddening at the cheeks. Jefferson then adopted a mocking French accent to read the text out loud: "I am so sorry, monsieur Washington has dragged Herc and I into his office for a late minute meeting. We cannot attend our little gathering. I expect both Alex and Thomas to make it to work on Monday in one piece, or I will kick your asses to France." Jefferson then threw his phone on the chair, gruffly mentioning that he had a fine bottle of whisky in his possession and his need to be much drunker to handle Alexander.

 

Alex debated for an unreasonable length of time the option of just getting up and leaving. Did Jefferson expect him to leave? Was Jefferson going to absolutely obliterate him for staying? How painful would Washington make his death if he left right now? It was crystal clear to both Jefferson and himself that this was another elaborate scheme to help them 'bond' but the only thing it was ever going to succeed in was furthering their cataclysmic anger towards each other. In the end, Alex decided to stay - hey, if there was alcohol involved, and more importantly, expensive alcohol, then it was worth it, right? Jefferson had been gone an awfully long time, so out of sheer boredom and a blatant disregard for anything Jefferson said, he started to feel the exposed spines of every book he could. It was an act of sheer pleasure, the knowledge that he could - he could defy Jefferson's petty rules, he could have one-up on him even if it was in the most childish way possible. His fingers decided to linger on a bulky volume, golden spirals forming the word 'Princeton' on the side. It was recognisably a yearbook, as Alexander had the exact same one under his mattress at home. 

 

He opened the cover and the name 'Thomas Jefferson' was printed in the middle of the first page. Alex had thought he'd struck gold - embarrassing photos of teenage Jefferson to plaster all of the office walls? Incredible. 

 

The next page was filled with various pictures of huge clumps of students, the camera so far away that most of their faces were indistinguishable. Alex did, however, identify Margot Phillips, standing right at the front of most of the shots, obnoxiously blonde hair curled in tight ringlets. He remembered Margot fondly, as the older girl who crashed all his lectures, dragging Alex off to God-knows-where, his friends responding with cat-calls and hidden jealous at Alex's ability to court a much older girl. Her presence in the photo dated it, at least. This meant that Jefferson was only a few years above him - that they most likely wandered the same corridors, drank in the same clubs, may have even exchanged glances once. 

 

He scanned the crowds once more, squinting at each blurry oval that hardly resembled a face, trying to identify Jefferson. His antics were cut off by the return of the man in question, coming up behind Alex so slowly that Alex didn't even realise someone else was in the room. Deciding it would be too cheap to scare Alex, he coughed to alert him of his presence, Alex jumping anyway.

 

"My old Princeton yearbook? You won't find any familiar faces in there, Alexander, those people are all too rich and well-educated to have ever associated with you."

 

"I think you deliberately choose to forget that I attended Princeton too. And I didn't even have to bribe the admissions board."

 

Alex refrained from further insulting Jefferson, instead taking the glass of whisky that Jefferson was holding out for him. Jefferson merely reclaimed his seat, Alex following sheepishly, unsure if there was some rich-people-protocol for drinking whisky. He followed Jefferson's actions, drinking when he drunk, loathing himself for his subconscious need to impress his adversary.  

 

“What’s up with you?” 

Jefferson’s statement took Alex by surprised. For once, he couldn’t detect any malice whatsoever in his words so chose to merely shoot Jefferson a questioning glance.

Jefferson selected his words carefully, attempting to keep up the pair's near constant repartee.

"You look like you want to throw yourself off the nearest building."

"I'm just _peachy_ ," Alex fires back too quickly, lacing a sarcastic tone in his response, "Since when did the regal Thomas Jefferson care about Alexander Hamilton's feelings?"

Alex is taken aback when Jefferson shoots him a warming smile instead of a school yard taunt.

"I do actually have emotions Alex, contrary to what you might think."

"Yes, and those emotions generally are: disgust, annoyance and loathing, to name a few."  


"Do you really think that little of me?"  


"Why, Thomas - do you think more of me?"   


Maybe it was the whisky, maybe it was the way Jefferson's jeans clung to his upper thighs, or perhaps it was Jeffer- _Thomas's_ newly found sense of warmth. Alex didn't know what it was, but something was making him stare a little too intently at Thomas's jawline, too drunk to stop himself wondering about how Thomas smelt, how that piece of skin below his ear would taste if he nipped at it. In an attempt to combat these unwanted thoughts, his hands wandered to the yearbook that remained open on the nearby cabinet. Flipping through the pages, he asked Thomas questions about his studies that he cared so little about the answers that he didn't even listen, spending his time trying to identifying Thomas's face in the pictures.

If Alex thought Jefferson was handsome now, then young Thomas was aching gorgeous. He mapped out his chiselled features with his finger, tracing the lines of the curls in his hair. As the night progressed, they found themselves moving to the sofa in the far corner of the study, to accommodate the intrusion of personal space. Thighs brushing thighs, Thomas' wild hair resting on Alex's cheeks as they analysed every picture, them both having some sort of Princeton or Princeton-adjacent story to tell.   


Thomas finished recounting a tale that involved too much alcohol, a past rival and toilet paper, which Alex had listened to intently, guffawing at Thomas' lousy jokes. Thomas chose that time to rise and refill his glass, an action that had become so familiar over the few last hours that it was now an intricate and systematic routine between the two. Alex turned the page to find a small picture, similar in size to a playing card. It was taken in the back of a dingy nightclub, the two figures in the frame shrouded in dark purple lights. The pair in question weren't the main focus of the photo, it seemed more like a first year photography student trying to take aesthetic photos of unknowing couples, bright neon signs distracting from the couple in the foreground. The taller man was noticeably Thomas - Alex could have spotted that hair from a mile back. The other was mostly out of frame, features shadowed. The only thing of any prominence was the man's boots. They were an ungodly shade of green, velvety and came up just past the ankles. There was only one person who Alexander knew had the lowest sense of shame and fashion to dare to wear those shoes. Himself.  


 

The realisation hit him like a freight train. He had kissed - made out! \- with Jefferson? He mentally went through all his memories of his partners at Princeton, until he finally remembered laying eyes on this particular lover, and then, _oh god,_ sleeping with him. Albeit, it was only a two day long fling, at the very end of Jefferson's time at Princeton, but Alex suddenly remembered it being one of the most romantic moments of his life. He reminisced about snapshots of their short time together - constant nips at exposed flesh, playing with the other's hair, arms slung lazily around each other's hips, faint whispers of  "esto perpetuum"

*  


 

'Esto perpetuum' was a homage to their first meeting, if Alex remembered rightly. He was doodling the latin phrase in the back of his textbooks in the library, just a lovesick teenager back then, caught up over some girl who completely vanished from his mind when the man he now knew as Thomas Jefferson walked to the room, ranting about the library not owning a specific book. 

 

"It's a fucking classic! But no, they have every single one of E.M. Forster's books except the gay one! This is what they get employing crazy fucking Christian librarians." 

 

The stranger was gorgeous, all dark and mysterious, with disarmingly bouncy hair. Alex couldn't help but interrupt his ranting:

"You're talking about Maurice, right? It's your lucky day because I happen to have a spare copy."

 

They proceeded to exchange small talk whilst Alex dug around for the book in his bag, mumbling something about him being the stranger's guardian angel when the man greedily snatched it from his hands.

 

He expected a thank you, instead he got a curt, "my guardian angel wouldn't dress like the pits of fashion and definitely wouldn't spend his time writing trashy quotes in latin - I'd like to think he has a little more class than that."

 

"What? Oh you mean 'esto perpetuum'?"

 

"Let it be everlasting. If you're trying to court someone, you might want to choose a less obscure phrase."

 

"But **you** understood it. A man of culture, I see. - clearly I made the right choice."

Alex was too head-strong for his own good, flirting so obviously because he didn't think there was anything to lose. Bracing for a rejection, or a stifled laugh, the stranger instead closed the gap between them, bringing their lips together without warning. 

 

It wasn't the best kiss either of them had ever had - it wasn't even the best kiss Alex had had this month. But the though of them kissing, completely strangers in a public library where absolutely anyone could see them inspired a feeling of intimacy and want in both men, Alex finally breaking the kiss for air. He went to speak, and his voice came out as a near uninterpretable whisper, "my name is-"

 

"No," the stranger put a finger to Alex's lips, "it's not important."

 

Alex thought this was peculiar but chose to dismiss it in favour of reclaiming the man's lips, and leading him, hand in hand, to his own room. 

 

They spent the next day exploring various cafes and book stores nearby, in addition to exploring each other. Alex could remember them sneaking to all manner of alleyways and alcoves, to steal kisses and share whispers of, "esto perpetuum." 

 

*

 

Alex had only realised the importance of the phrase when the stranger - Jefferson! \- left. He had explained how he so desperately wanted this thing that they had to be everlasting; for their love to be infinite. Instead, as quickly as he arrived, he was gone again - demanded back home by a terminally-ill mother coming to the last days of her life. Alex accepted the fact that without even a name to go on, he would have to consign this lover to the very back of his mind and now he was only a few paces away - did he know?

 

If he did he had never shown any signs of knowing over the years. The knowledge of this made Alex completely petrified: did Jefferson continue this feud because of some pent up rage about their time together? Surely if Jefferson did know, and wanted to continue something with Alex, he would have made his intentions and his identity known? 

 

And then Jefferson was walking back towards him, standing behind Alex, peering over his shoulder, breath on Alex’s neck. 

 

“Hmm... what’s that? Oh, yeah, that’s me and - umm? Shit, I don’t remember if I even got his name, I just remember that our time together was one of the most incredible times of my Princeton years. And the worst thing is, I can’t even remember his face...”

 

That was all that Alex needed. The slightest hint that Thomas wanted this... wanted him. He turned his head slightly, so his top lip catching ever so slightly on Thomas’ ear.

 

“Alex, what are you-”

 

“esto perpetuum.”

 

And then Thomas was kissing him, hard and with no finesse, like he was trying to make up for all those lost years. Alex had to tip onto the balls of his feet to made up the height difference, but the groans Thomas made when Alex dragged his teeth over the hinge of his jaw was most definitely worth it. 

 

"Why didn't I realise it was you?" Jefferson whispered, his voice ragged, "I'm such an idiot."

 

"I think that makes us both idiots."

 

The room was filled with panting moans and bitten back gasps, hands roaming over too many layers of clothes with a tentativeness that completely contrasts the wildness of their kisses. Hands in Jefferson's hair, Alex's shirt being practically ripped off. Abruptly, Jefferson broke off the kiss, clutching Alex's cheeks with his hands.

"Alexander, _in aeternum te amabo._ "  


Alex smiled sentimentally, a few noiseless tears slipping out. For the first time in his life, Alex found himself unable to express his feelings in words, and thus hoped to do it with actions, reclaiming Thomas' lips once more.

**Author's Note:**

> for those wondering, 'in aeternum te amabo' roughly translates to 'I will love you all eternity' (tooth-rottingly sweet, I know!)  
> -  
> find me on tumblr/send all prompts to: @mandelsons


End file.
